


Mind Reader

by TardisGirl11 (ThedasWitch)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed Object, F/M, Mind Reading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThedasWitch/pseuds/TardisGirl11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this request: I can't remember where I read this imagine (I apologize!) but I'd love to read a story where Sam touches a cursed object that can make him read minds and tries to get the reader to like him the way he likes her. I've searched for a fic and found nothing - maybe someone else can help me out! :)</p><p>Reader and Sam were friends at Stanford, and meet again years later while the Winchesters are working a job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind Reader

**Author's Note:**

> (No smut in this chapter, but probably eventually)
> 
> Warning: Mention of suicide (victims of case) but no details

Your heels clicked against the marble steps of the courthouse. You checked your phone, still waiting on an email from your firm. You’d been working at Howard and Armstead ever since you left law school, and word around the office was that you’d make junior partner soon.  
As you made your way through the parking lot, fishing in your bag for your keys, your phone finally buzzed. Without checking the caller ID, you answered. “Y/N Y/L/N.”  
Instead of your boss’s secretary replying, though, the answer was from a voice you hadn’t heard in years.  
“Y/N? My name is Sam Winchester. I know we haven’t talked in a long time, but we were at Stanford together...”  
“Oh my god, Sam!” you said, unlocking your car door and sitting in the driver’s seat. “How could I forget? It’s not every day a gigantic naked freshman passes out on your doorstep.” You laughed, remembering the look on his face when he’d woken up after his first kegger, not sure where he was or where his clothes were.  
“I kind of hoped you’d forgotten that part,” said Sam. “But get this, I’m doing some work in town near you. And actually, I could use some help from a lawyer.”  
You agreed to meet him at your office. About twenty minutes later, you pulled into the lot next to a gorgeous black Chevy Impala. Before you got out of your car, you checked your hair in the visor mirror and applied a fresh shade of lipstick. If Sam Winchester still looked even a little bit how you remembered, you wanted to look your best. You’d had the biggest crush on him as an undergrad, even though he was so obviously in love with Jess. Then she’d died, he’d disappeared, and you’d gone on to law school. You had been determined to get over the tall, shaggy-haired boy you liked when you were twenty-one.  
Although if the nerves you were feeling as you rode the elevator to your floor were any indication, you hadn’t completely managed to shake that crush.  
You squared your shoulders, took a breath, and walked into your office.  
The first thing you saw was the back of a tall, broad-shouldered man with long hair. The man standing across from him, facing you, looked up when the bell above the door jingled. He had freckles and green eyes, eyes that swiftly looked you up and down before he grinned. You fixed him with your best lawyer-bitch stare until he looked away. He said something you couldn’t hear to his friend, who turned around to look at you.  
And your breath caught in your throat. It was Sam Winchester. But not the sweet, gangly college student in a Stanford sweatshirt you remembered. He had filled out since you last saw him, and you couldn’t help but admire the way his suit jacket fit over his broad shoulders. His hair was longer than it had been, and the angles of his face more defined. But the hazel eyes were the same, and when he smiled, the dimples were the same.  
Crap.

Sam hadn’t been sure Y/N would agree to meet him and Dean. He hadn’t seen her in years, and he honestly hadn’t been sure she’d agree. The two of them had been fairly close back at Stanford, but you hadn’t really spoken since he left. But he’d heard from a mutual friend—back when he still had friends from his old life—that she’d graduated with honors and gone on to law school. And when they’d started looking into a case at a law firm, he’d recognized her name on the list of employees. So he decided to give her a call and see if she could help out with the case.  
When she did agree, he’d been expecting the same girl he’d taken Poli-Sci with. The girl with a messy ponytail, a hundred fly-away hairs, and no makeup. The girl who wore nothing but jeans, sneakers, and ironic t-shirts. Maybe a little older, and little more professional, but essentially the same girl.  
He was unprepared for the woman that walked through the office door. Her hair was sleek and stylish, falling around her face in shiny waves. She was wearing lipstick and something smoky around her eyes. Her jeans and t-shirt were gone, replaced by a suit and a silky blue shirt. She was the image of a polished, professional attorney. In 5” heels.  
Her face lit up when she saw him, and her smile brought back memories of late nights studying or watching cheesy movies. He stood up as she strode over to them, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She ignored his outstretched hand and hugged him, pulling back after a moment with a grin. “Geez, Sam. Didn’t anyone tell you that you’re eventually supposed to stop growing?”  
Sam laughed a little and took a seat in one of the office chairs. Y/N walked around her desk and sat, raising an eyebrow at Dean. “And who’s this?”  
Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Sam cut him off before he could say something suggestive. “My brother, Dean.”  
“Well, Dean,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “If you can keep your eyes on my face, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”  
Sam tried to hide a smile at the flabbergasted expression on Dean’s face. His eyebrows went up, his eyes went wide, and, for once, the older Winchester was speechless.  
“So,” said Y/N. “What is it you need help with?”  
Sam and Dean exchanged a look. They were used to dealing with civilians on a case, but it was never easy to explain that the mysterious deaths of their coworkers were being cause by something supernatural. But they needed her help, and the truth seemed the only way to get it.

You leaned back in your chair, trying to absorb everything the Winchesters had just told you.  
“So… you two hunt monsters,” you said, “and break curses and exorcise demons. All over the country. And you think there's one at my firm.”  
“That pretty much sums it up,” replied Dean. Sam was silent, focusing intently on your face as you processed the information.  
“Alright,” you said after a long pause.  
“Alright?” Sam seemed confused. “That’s it?”  
“That’s it,” you said.  
“People usually react a little more when we tell them that monsters are real. And that one might be killing their coworkers.”  
“Let’s just say I’m compartmentalizing. And I knew that there was something weird about three attorneys killing themselves in one month. I mean, this job has a high suicide rate, but that doesn’t just happen.” You ran your hands through your hair. “What can I do to help?”  
The brothers filled you in on what they knew so far. Three lawyers at Howard and Armstead had committed suicide within thirty days. Other than the fact that they all worked at the same firm, they didn’t seem to have anything in common. They all had different case loads, different offices, and different ages. So far, they had no leads, and what Sam and Dean really needed was access to more information on the victims and what they’d been working on.  
Which is where you came in. The Winchesters needed someone within the company to get to the employee records. You were going to take them down to the file room, use your key card to get them in, and help them look for a connection.  
But after two hours digging through boxes of files, you and the Winchesters were no closer to finding something. Dean had gone to get another box, leaving you and Sam alone in a dusty corner surrounded by filing cabinets. You put down the folder you’d been flipping through, tilting your head to give him a long look.  
“So how did the two of you get involved in this sort of thing anyway?” you said. “I mean, last time we saw each other, you were all set to go to law school. What happened?”  
Sam sighed. “We were raised in this life. Something killed our mom when we were kids, and our dad… never let it go. I left when I went to college. But then the same thing came after Jess…”  
You covered your mouth. “Oh god, that fire… I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think. And you’ve been hunting ever since?”  
He nodded with a grim expression. “Pretty much. Dean and I have tried stopping a few times, but it never really seems to stick.”  
“That sounds lonely.”  
“It can be.” Sam didn’t say anything else for a long moment, just looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.  
He had just opened his mouth to say something, when Dean came back with the files. The moment gone, you started back in on the research.  
“So get this,” said Sam after a while. “All three of the victims were asked to look at this case. Nothing big, just a dispute about an old lady’s estate. But each of them went out to her house a few days before they died.”  
“What are we thinking?” asked Dean. “Vengeful spirit? Cursed object, maybe?”  
“We won’t know until we get out there and check it out,” replied Sam, standing up and grabbing his bag. “Y/N, thank you so much for your help, but we need to go.”  
“Now hold on just a minute!” you said, jumping to your feet. “You can’t just show up after nearly a decade, tell me that monsters are real, ask for my help, and then take off!” You shoved your finger into Sam’s broad chest. “No way. I’m coming with you.”  
In spite of the brothers’ protests, you followed their car—that gorgeous vintage Impala—to the address on the file. Before you got out of the car, you yanked on the boots and jeans you kept in the back. You weren’t sure what exactly what waiting for you in that house, but you weren’t about to face it in heels and a pencil skirt.

Sam and Dean were standing by the open trunk of their car, arguing about Y/N.  
“Look, Sammy,” said Dean, “I know she was your friend back in college, but she’s not a hunter. She’s a freakin’ lawyer.”  
Sam was about to respond when Y/N walked up beside them, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. She’d gotten new pants and shoes from somewhere, and had a determined look on her face.  
“Oh, wow,” she said, looking into the truck. “That’s quite an arsenal.” She reached in and pulled out pistol, pulling back the slide to check to see if it was loaded with practiced speed. Sam and Dean stared incredulously, and she looked up. “What?” she said. “You’re not the only one whose dad was a Marine.”  
Wordlessly, Dean handed her a magazine for the gun she picked. She tucked it into her waistband and put her hands on her hips.  
“So, what’s the plan here?” she asked.  
Shaking off his surprise, Sam explained that they were going to go in and check out the house, looking for anything that could indicate supernatural activity. They told her about the usual things to look out for: cold spots, the smell of sulfur, strange noises, objects that seemed out of place. And they made her promise to stay near one or both of them until they figured out what they were dealing with.  
Y/N used the firm’s key to let them in, and they started going through the house room by room. Nothing seemed out of place; it was filled with the usual knick-knacks you’d expect from a woman who’d lived there for forty years, including a frankly terrifying collection of porcelain cats. But nothing suspicious.  
Finally, Sam and Y/N made their way to the attic. They found several boxes already opened and spread out on the floor; clearly, at least one of the lawyers had gotten there before. “This looks promising,” said Y/N, and the two of them started going through the boxes.  
Sam tried to stay focused on the job, but his eyes kept drifting to Y/N, biting her lip in concentration as her ponytail was falling loose around her face. He could see glimpses of the girl he’d known at Stanford, but she had changed so much since they’d last met that he wasn’t completely sure how to act around her.  
She looked up and caught him staring. “What?” she asked with a small smile.  
“Nothing,” said Sam, looking back down. “Just—wondering, I guess. You seem different than what I remember.”  
“Good different or bad different?”  
“Oh, nothing bad, I promise,” Sam hurried to reassure her. “Just different. I mean, you asked about me, but you haven’t really said anything about yourself. What have you been up to since Stanford?”  
Y/N sat back on her heels. “There’s not really anything to talk about,” she said. “I went to law school like I always planned, got a job after I graduated, and I’ve been with Howard and Armstead ever since. I have a car, an apartment, a savings account… my life is pretty boring. Not exactly anything that would impress a professional monster hunter.”  
Sam smiled. “No, it’s nice hearing about something normal for a change. We don’t get a lot of safe and normal in our lives.”  
“Normal is overrated,” said Y/N. She paused, a sad look on her face. “And it doesn’t keep you safe.”  
Sam was about to ask what she meant by that when her phone buzzed. She checked the screen and sighed. “Work. Sorry, Sam, I need to take this.” She stood up and walked down the attic stairs, answering the phone with a clipped, “Y/L/N,” as she went.  
Sam turned back to the box, sorting through the piles of junk carefully. He had just about gotten through all of its contents when something caught his eye. It was small, just an earring with a tear-drop shaped pearl dangling from a silver stud.  
He picked up the earring to examine it more closely. It was surprisingly warm for the chilly attic.  
Really warm, actually. And getting hotter.  
Y/N walked back into the attic just as Sam collapsed.

“Sam!” you yelled, running to his side. You cupped his face in your hands and looked around for what could have caused him to pass out. There was nothing you could see in the attic, none of the warning signs the Winchesters had told you to look for.  
“Sammy!” you heard Dean yell, his boots pounding against the stairs as he rushed to the attic. He barged into the room, gun drawn, his eyes quickly falling to Sam lying on the floor.  
He ran over to the two of you, dropping to his knees next to his brother. “What the hell happened, Y/N?” he demanded.  
“I…I don’t know. I walked away to answer the phone, and he was just looking through the boxes, and then I came back in, and he—he just crumpled. I don’t know what happened.”  
Dean checked Sam’s pulse, then sighed in relief. “He’s alive. He’s just out.” He look up, fixing you with a stern gaze. “Now you’re going to tell me exactly what happened…”  
With a gasp, Sam opened his eyes. “Oh thank God,” you sighed in relief. “Sam, are you okay?”  
He sat up, rubbing his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” he said. “But I think I found the cursed object.” He explained about the earring, and Dean shoved it into something he called a “hex bag.”  
The three of you walked back to the cars, both you and Dean watching Sam closely for any negative effects from the earring. Despite his protests, Dean was worried that just putting the thing in a hex bag wasn’t enough to neutralize it.  
“So, what do you guys usually do next?” you asked.  
“I think we’re just going to get a motel room,” said Sam. “Wait this out until we know it’s safe.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you replied. “You two can come stay with me. I have an extra bedroom, and my couch is really comfortable.”  
“Look, Y/N,” said Dean, “we appreciate the help, but we’ve got this.”  
Sam gave him a look. “What he means, Y/N, is that we don’t want to get in your way. You’ve done more than enough.”  
“I’m not taking no for an answer, Sam,” you said. “You two are staying with me. And that’s final.”  
You told the brothers to follow you in their car to your apartment. Twenty minutes later, you parked and got out of your car, the Impala pulling up beside you. The Winchesters grabbed bags from their trunk and followed you inside. You led them into your apartment; it was honestly a little too big for you living by yourself, but you’d fallen in love with the hardwood floors and the wide windows that soaked it in sun every morning.  
You showed the boys to your guest room and told Dean to order something from your impressive collection of take-out menus. You went to your bedroom to change, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and an old Stanford T-shirt.  
When you walked back into the living room, Sam and Dean were arguing.  
“Look, Dean,” said Sam, “I feel fine. We got the cursed object, we put it in the hex bag, we’re good. Now stop acting like you expect me to drop dead.” They both looked up when you entered the room, and looked back down just as quickly.  
“Sorry to interrupt,” you said. “Either of you want a drink?”  
“Now we’re talking,” said Dean. “What do you got?”  
You dug through your cabinet for some plates and napkins. “Let’s see… I think there’s beer in the fridge if you want that.”  
You and the Winchesters ordered a pizza and cracked open the case of beer. Dean was surprisingly easy to get along with once he wasn’t stressing about a case, and hanging out with Sam felt just like it did back in college. The three of you spent the rest of the night joking and laughing. Dean loved get new ammunition to tease Sam with once you started telling stories about him in college. Especially the notorious waking-up-naked incident.  
Finally, once the pizza was eaten and the beer was gone, you said your goodnights and went to bed. And as you put on your pajamas and climbed into bed, you couldn’t help being glad that Sam Winchester had decided to call you up and ask for your help.


End file.
